


Mile by Mile

by Vagrant_Blvrd



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe- GTA V, Fake AH Crew, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-11
Updated: 2017-07-11
Packaged: 2018-11-30 17:48:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11468577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vagrant_Blvrd/pseuds/Vagrant_Blvrd
Summary: Given Ryan's reputation as the big, bad Vagabond, you wouldn't think he'd be a baby about it when they head up north on an extended job for Geoff.





	Mile by Mile

**Author's Note:**

> Snapshots based on [this post](https://fanficoverdose.tumblr.com/post/162651981092/nabtime-ramshacklemecha-hissing-willows).

Given Ryan's reputation as the big, bad Vagabond, you wouldn't think he'd be a baby about it when they head up north on an extended job for Geoff. 

Wouldn't expect him to make a face when greeted with gray sky and heavy clouds their first morning there, cold wind battering them in the face when they walk out of the motel room. Wouldn't expect him to scurry back inside, muttering about needing to change before they head out to talk to their contacts in the city. Wouldn't expect him to come back out bundled up in that hideous fur-trimmed coat of his he swore he got rid of ages ago and wearing leather gloves to boot, but he does. 

He really does.

“Ryan, why?”

Ryan avoids Gavin's eyes as he mutters something that's lost in the collar of his coat, and strides off purposefully towards their rental car yelling over his shoulder for Gavin to hurry up or he'll leave without him.

“Idiot,” Gavin murmurs, pulling the car keys he lifted off Ryan as he brushed past him earlier out of his coat pocket. Just a spot of practice on his part really, never hurts to keep his hand in, and saunters toward the parking lot with a soft smile curling his lips. 

***

It's always a nice thing, when things go their way. 

Jobs like this, negotiating an alliance with other crews while hoping to expand the crew's reach is a delicate endeavor, and so very satisfying when things fall into place and agreements are reached. Alliances forged, strong and looking to become even more so over time.

Playing politics is tiring, draining, and Gavin leans his head against the passenger side window as Ryan drives them back to the motel, something warm curling up in his chest as he listens to Ryan humming along absently to the radio with a little half-smile on his face.

***

“Wha - “ Gavin yelps, pulled rudely out of sleep when he feels a sharp jerk, rough slide of fabric against his skin and sits up, hands automatically reaching for Ryan - 

\- and stops, forehead furrowed in a frown as he tries to sort his thoughts in order, eyes falling on the other side of the bed where Ryan's rolled away from him in his sleep and taken the blankets with him.

There's a slight chill in the room, and realizes the motel's heater must have turned down in the night at some point. Most likely a built-in energy conservation measure.

Gavin huffs, corner of his mouth twitching with equal parts fondness and annoyance when he reaches for the blankets and Ryan pulls away from him with them, a low warning rumble of a growl coming from him. 

“Fuck off,” Ryan mumbles, not truly awake as he burrows into the blankets like a small child.

“Ryan, no,” Gavin says, voice going small and pitiful, even though he's full-on smiling by now. “I'll freeze, Ryan, it's so cold.”

That gets through to Ryan, makes its way through the fog of sleep and has him cracking open one eye, peering at Gavin through a small gap in his little blanket cave.

“Ryan,” Gavin wheedles, slowly inching closer. “Don't be mean.”

There's a sigh, heavy, oh so put upon, and then Ryan wriggles free of the blankets and drags Gavin in close before draping the blankets over them both.

“'s cold,” Ryan says, barely above a whisper, words sounding heavy and unwieldy on his tongue. “Not like Los Santos.”

Gavin hums in easy agreement as he sets about poking at the blankets just enough to leave an opening for air, it's stifling being buried under the blankets.

He doesn't point out that the weather's held steady in the mid sixties the whole time they've been here, that they have a flight in the morning back to Los Santos and the crew and the sun-baked warmth of the city they call home, because that's not the point, is it. 

Ryan's used to warm weather, grew up with it and managed the good luck to find his way to Los Santos through cities and towns where the weather never dropped below the low seventies. (By hook or crook, he's told Gavin before, twist of a smile on his face.)

He's been...not miserable, no, but definitely not thrilled with the change in temperature this whole time. Always has the heat up whether they're in the motel room or driving somewhere in the rental car, wearing that damnable jacket and the gloves he doesn't bother with in Los Santos.

“Stop laughing at me,” Ryan mutters, thread of embarrassment in his voice because the Vagabond should be above things like this, but _Ryan_? Oh, he's another matter completely, isn't he.

“I'm not,” Gavin says, but it's obvious he is, as much as he sympathizes with Ryan. “Ryan, I'm not.”

Ryan snorts, burying his face against Gavin's shoulder and regretting it almost instantly, saying, “Christ, you're a hairy bastard,” as he turns his head to the side.

“Oh, such sweet nothings you whisper in my ear,” Gavin says. “Always a charmer, you are.”

And neither Ryan or the Vagabond can let that stand as he rears up - cold forgotten - and brings a pillow down on Gavin. Gavin retaliates in kind and things devolve from there into stupidly fond smiles and helpless laughter.

========

Ryan has a habit of moving things around on Gavin. Forever insisting things are too cluttered, that Gavin leaves his shit lying about everywhere, which is a vicious, unfounded lie. 

One that doesn't stop Ryan from tidying here and there, and misplacing Gavin's things time and again, though. Moving bits and bobs and in the process incidentally kicking the Pelican case for Ryan's favorite sniper rifle out from under the bed, just enough that Gavin bangs his foot on it when the lights go out during a storm

“Ryan!” Gavin yells, sucking in air sharply between his teeth as he hops around on one foot, pain somehow worse, more unbearable than any other he's known in his life at that moment.

Dimly he's aware of the steady footsteps coming closer, something inherently smug about them as Ryan appears, a great looming shadow in the darkness.

“You yelled?” he asks, clear amusement in his voice as he watches the spectacle Gavin's making of himself. 

Gavin glares, and Ryan _tsks_ when he thumbs on the flashlight he's carrying, lets the beam of light fall on the edge of the Pelican case.

“Oh, now, see,” he says, smug and annoying. “This is why we need to keep this place clean. Wouldn't want accidents like this to happen, you know.”

Gavin makes a noise of deep aggravation in his throat, fingers twitching as Ryan raises the flashlight enough for Gavin to make out his face and the big, dumb smirk he's got as Ryan chuckles meanly.

========

It's a bad night all around to begin with, rain falling hard and cutting down on visibility. So when things go wrong, when shit happens, there's an added level of difficulty thrown in.

Gavin's aware enough to admit he's not the best driver in the crew, but every so often he has his moments. 

Laughs, something fierce in it as he dodges gunfire from rival gangs, hears the wail of sirens from the pair of police cars trying to flank him as he screams down the streets of Los Santos. Adrenaline singing through him along with a healthy dose of terror because hes not gone completely mad just yet.

Streetlights blur by, bookended by panicked creams from the few civilians out and about at this hour as he loses his pursuers, as they fall back one by one until it's him and one stubborn bastard in a car built for speed and not much else.

Gunshots pepper his car, and it shudders violently as they manage to get one of his tires. Swerving as he fights to keep the damn thing under control. 

Half a block later Gavin sees his chance to lose his new friend and jerks the wheel to the side, and then it's the deafening shriek of tortured metal, shattering glass and a carousel of lights and colors and sound, pain blooming bright and sharp as the world tumbles around him wildly, head colliding with something hard as everything goes dark

When he comes back to himself he can hear Michael and Geoff yelling at him faintly, comm dislodged from his ear and dangling from a wire down by his shoulder. Can hear the sound of chopper blades high above and half a mile back, faint and growing closer as Jack brings the cavalry, and all around him shattered glass and twisted metal. 

Engine ticking as it cools, helped along by the rain and Gavin feels laughter choking him as he pulls himself from the wreckage of his stolen car. Miraculously still alive after a spectacular crash that had taken that stubborn bastard with it, mangled shell of his car nestled up against the brick wall of a nearby building.

Limping a safe distance away in case the car catches fire, explodes, Gavin pulls his phone out of his pocket and brings up speed dial. 

Grins when he hears Ryan's voice, calm and measured on the surface despite the words. 

_”I'm going to fucking kill you, Gavin.”_

“Ryan, I could use a lift, Ryan,” Gavin says, tipping his head back against the wall behind him, body aching and heart racing still, as the rain continues to fall. “Car's a bit banged up.”

========

Gavin's not a lightweight, but he's in a crew that's managed to attract people who can drink him under the table and then some.

Luckily, he has Ryan, now, who swoops in like some grand heroic figure to keep Gavin from drinking too much, these days.

“You're very handsome,” Gavin manages, patting Ryan's face clumsily. “Have I told you that before?”

Ryan sighs, fondness in it as he guides Gavin away from the others who don't even notice he's gone as they continue to celebrate the founding of the best damn crew in the city of Los Santos.

“Once or twice, yeah.”

Gavin hums, leaning his head against Ryan's shoulder.

“Very, very handsome,” he says, mostly to himself, but Ryan must hear it too, because he laughs, low and amused.

========

Ryan's the sort to entertain these little moments of vindictiveness, petty and mean, and all around annoying from time to time.

This time, Gavin honestly doesn't know what he's done wrong, just follows the sound of banging pots and pans, clattering dishware to the kitchen. Seats himself quietly at the kitchen island and watches as Ryan _putters_.

Grabbing ingredients from the refrigerator, the pantry. Various cabinets, and mixes and whisks and stirs, all with an angry edge to it.

“What.”

Gavin's eyebrows go up at the curt tone, the scowl on Ryan's face as he turns to Gavin.

“Couldn't sleep,” Gavin says mildly, resting his chin in his hand. “Thought I'd come keep you company for a bit.”

Ryan's eyes narrow, and he cocks his head to the side. Suspicious, like he thinks Gavin has an ulterior motive.

Gavin simply looks back, and after a few moments Ryan slumps, tension bleeding from him as he goes back to his cooking. He doesn't talk much after that aside from little comments to himself, thinking aloud, and acts as though Gavin isn't in the room.

Normally, Gavin would take offense, but there's anger to Ryan still. Tightly reined in, _controlled_ , but still volatile. Likely to explode if Gavin pokes or prods him too much just yet. Best to wait for now.

And then Ryan reaches for the lid for one of the pots, reaching other another containing boiling water, and hisses as it burns, lid clattering out of his hold to the floor.

Gavin half-rises concerned, Ryan's name on his lips, and Ryan -

Ryan stares down at the lid for long, long moment, fingers of one hand curled around his arm over the burn, pressing into it, and something in him seems to break.

Ryan turns, fast, and crosses the distance between them to grab Gavin by the front of his shirt, hauling him to his feet.

“Ryan - “

“You didn't fucking wait for me,” Ryan hisses, and this close Gavin can see past the anger, see the fear in his eyes. “You didn't fucking wait for me and you got _shot_ , Gavin.”

Gavin's chest _aches_. 

He hadn't realized, hadn't thought this would still be bothering Ryan, but of course it would, wouldn't it? If Gavin was in his place...

“I had body armor,” Gavin says, weak protest, because he understands this. Experiences it himself every damn time Ryan throws himself at impossible odds for the sake of the crew, for _Gavin_. “I'm fine, Ryan.”

Ryan snarls, eyes flicking down to where the bullet had hit, right over Gavin's heart. Killing blow for certain, if Geoff hadn't insisted they all wear body armor, and not for the first time Gavin's glad for it, for his protectiveness when it comes to the crew.

“Just,” Ryan seems to deflate, anger replaced by bone-deep weariness, eyes sliding shut as he leans his forehead against Gavin's. “Fucking wait for me, next time, all right? Please.”

The ache in Gavin's chest sharpens, leaving him helpless and hurting and he brings a hand up to cup Ryan's jaw, thumb sweeping along his cheek.

“All right,” he says, soft, quiet. Heart hurting for all the promises they can never give voice to with the lives they lead. “All right, Ryan.”

========

“Gavin, no,” Ryan says, fingers snagging the back of Gavin's collar to pull him away from his computer. “Lindsay would kill us.”

Gavin looks over his shoulder at Ryan, all wide eyes and pouty lips.

“But Ryan, look at them! They're so precious!”

A small crew that's just started to operate in Los Santos, just started to get noticed. Young and promising but still so inexperienced. So much potential to them, they just need a little experience, a little push in the right direction

A hacker, muscle with brains, and a charming grifter, and by all accounts all of them talented enough to make an impression here in Los Santos, to be _noticed_.

The Fakes could use people like them, _Lindsay_ could use people like them with B Team.

Ryan sighs, slowing to a stop and turning to look at Gavin as he releases him. 

“You can't keep them,” Ryan says, wry twist to his mouth when Gavin gears up to offer up a rebuttal, “but we can talk to Lindsay, see if she thinks recruiting them would be a smart move.”

Gavin grins, wide and bright, and launches himself at Ryan. Like always, Ryan catches him without faltering.

========

At some point Gavin wonders aloud just how viable a coffee IV would actually be, and then Ryan pops in and casually brings up facts and science and tosses the ever deplorable commons sense into the mix, all while sipping daintily at his sugared up mess of a drink.

“Say what you will about my Starbucks,” Ryan says, eyeing the way Gavin's got a death grip on the coffee maker carafe like he's about to drink straight from it instead of being civilized and pouring himself a cup. “At least my coffee doesn't taste like bad decisions and regret.”

========

Trendy things and fads cycle through Los Santos at a frenzied pace, and every so often one will catch Gavin's attention.

“Hey, Ryan.” Gavin looks up from his laptop to see Ryan watching him, something wary in his face, like he knows what's coming. “You should try this.”

Ryan's eyes narrow.

“Something tells me I shouldn't ask, and yet I'm going to anyway,” Ryan says, eyebrow going up. “What should I try, Gavin?”

Gavin thinks about it, for a moment, tries to find the right words, but in the end this is Ryan, and he's used to Gavin.

“Remember last week, when you jumped out that window?” Gavin says, instead of answering. “Complained about your knees hurting for days after like an old man?”

Ryan's expression darkens, and ha, yes, perhaps this is not the best way to get him to agree, but.

“Oh, no,” Ryan says, a little too pleasantly. “Please, continue, Gavin. I do so love it when you insult me like this.”

“Collagen powder!” Gavin blurts out, turning his laptop around to let Ryan see the screen. “Says it's good for your joints and all.”

Gavin watches Ryan, sees the way he looks less and less impressed, even without stopping to read the article.

“As interesting as that sounds,” Ryan says, “I'm going to have to say no, because that sounds gross.”

Gavin huffs, shoving his laptop at Ryan insistently, and after a moment he takes it and grudgingly reads the article.

“Oh my God,” Ryan says, trying not to laugh. “They make it sound like you'd turn into Wolverine.”

Gavin rolls his eyes because of course, _of course_ , Ryan would go straight to comics for that.

“Also, still no. Still sounds really, really gross.”

=========

Ryan is a consummate flubber of words, tripping over them from time to time and grasping at excuses when he does, and it's always a joy to see.

“Goddammit, Gavin,” Ryan says, elbow finding Gavin's ribs as they fumble their way through the dark. “I've told you before, it's not easy to lay down suppressive fire and talk at the same time!”

“Sure, sure,” Gavin says, voice pitched to be gratingly soothing, corner of his mouth kicked up into something like a smirk. “It's just that Michael never seems to have that problem, or Ray. Jack. Even Geoff manages, and I mean, it's _Geoff_.”

There's a faint, indignant, _Hey!_ over the comms, and Gavin lets the smirk roll over into a grin.

As far as heists go, this one hasn't been a stellar success, but they all made it out in one piece and they stand to profit beautifully once they get the chance to sit down and split the take.

Just the little matter of making it back to the penthouse to deal with first.

Ryan scowls at Gavin, who grins as the reach the end of the sewer tunnel that lets out on a hill overlooking Los Santos, glittering and shining like a strand of jewels in the dark.

They're miles from the penthouse, but they stashed a car half a mile to the east during the setup for the heist as part of the contingency plan.

Gavin looks up at the sky, a slow smile making its way across his face. It's a beautiful night for a stroll under the stars, just the two of them and the rest of the crew listening in over the comms.

Romantic as all hell, that.

Gavin catches Ryan's eye, hand brushing against his as they start walking. Sees the curve of Ryan's smile under the face paint, and thinks this life isn't so bad after all, if it gives them moments like this.


End file.
